Box Full of Nothing
by Lord Mendasuit
Summary: One shots, drabbles, ficlets and mini series that range from fluffy waff to dark, bad ends. Might range from as few as a hundred words to as many as several thousand. Nothing other than 'self contained' is a rule here.
1. Marauder for Life and in Death

**Marauder for Life and in Death**

* * *

Summary: Padfoot has always had the last laugh. And in death, it will be no different, as his beloved cousin and her friends will find out soon enough.

* * *

A very large circular table sat in the middle of a very large room.

The room was of dreary and rather uncomfortable looking cobblestone on all surfaces but the furniture's, which was only a couple of chairs so hard they might as well be stone and a table so tastefully ugly it might as well be firewood.

It also had the one entrance, which had caused a commotion as some of the people sitting at the table had met each other. Who were these people?

The Malfoy family, headed by Lucius, released 'due to lack of evidence' by order of Minister Fudge. To his left sat his son Draco and to his right sat his wife Narcissa, all three looking prim, proper and well groomed despite the undeserving room.

To Narcissa's right sat her sister, who even now was grinning like a lunatic and looking around excitedly, much as if she were a child introduced to something new. Contrary to Narcissa's well cared for appearance, Bellatrix looked more like she had just woken up and forgot to eat for a month, looking like a hairy skeleton with skin.

To her right sat her husband and his brother, Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, respectively. Both were brutish men approaching their fifth decade who looked as gaunt as Bellatrix herself, and this made the once vaguely dissimilar brothers even more alike, Azkaban draining their life and turning them into skeletons with skin themselves.

Further to the right was one Peter Pettigrew, looking extremely uncomfortable and shifting on his chair. From the way certain of his bodyparts twitched every once in a while, it was clear that he had been subjected to the torture curse just a few minutes prior.

Moving on from Peter was Walden McNair, who looked grumpy about being forced to leave his great axe behind when he strode into Gringotts.

Antonin Dolohov, a manic glint to his eyes, was next to McNair, smiling as he looked indiscriminately at Narcissa's bust, which caused her to frown, but a glance from her husband kept her from sneering at the idiot openly.

At the head of the table sat Tom Marvolo Riddle, in all of his snakey glory, looking bored. Intensely so. Regardless, he sat as dignified as he could, which wasn't very, given that he wasn't given a throne to sit in, like he should have, but he'd deal with these goblins' disrespect later. To his right, more and more death eaters completed the round table.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a Goblin that nobody cared to name strode in with a snarl on his face. "As everyone is gathered, we shall honor the will of the fallen and-"

"Excuse me," began Narcissa, standing up. "I must attend to the call of nature," she explained, pushing her chair back.

Lucius looked thoughtful. "Draco, accompany her. It wouldn't do for a lady of her standing to walk alone in Gringotts," he said, looking at his wife and nodding.

"Very well, but make it quick. We shall start without you."

"But mother! I have to inherit the Black State!" whined Draco, as he pouted at his mother, who just shook her head and dragged him off.

"Your father will tell you anything that you missed. Come along, Draco," Narcissa said, taking Draco with her as she left.

Finally, the Goblin stopped sneering at the two retreating guests to Gringotts bank. "The will to be read is in this letter. It was requested that it be opened and read by yourself," the Goblin said, looking at Voldemort. "Probably a gesture of respect and deference," and there was a barely restrained contempt at that sentence that anyone with two braincells to rub together could pick up.

Voldemort would punish the goblins, and punish them hard, for their disrespect.

With that, the Goblin left and Tom Marvolo Riddle picked up the letter, opening it and unfolding the muggle paper.

"... 'This is the last will and testament of Sirius Orion Black... Marauder for Life and in Death'," said Tom, frowning in confusion.

Peter tried to dive under the table, but the entire room was covered by the conflagration that ensued, and it reduced him to ash as well.

Hearing an explosion and feeling the ground shaking, Narcissa Malfoy, widow to Lucius Malfoy, fell to the ground and wept for her husband, for the man who had collaborated and conspired with Sirius Black in order to protect his family from the Dark Lord.


	2. Draco's True Feelings

**Draco's True Feelings**

* * *

Summary: A traumatic event makes Draco realize the true feelings he has, deep in his heart, towards Harry.

* * *

Draco's world crashed apart around him, as everything he knew and loved was destroyed in front of his very eyes. Oh, how he regretted ever working under the Dark Lord, a million times more than when he'd been the direct cause of Dumbledore's death. Back then, Draco hadn't much cared about the old man, and he still didn't now, but it was perhaps the first mistake that brought him to this position, to this abomination...

"I HATE YOU POTTEEEEEEEEER!" screamed in anguish Draco Malfoy, dropping the photos that he held in his hand, depicting a gruesome scene.

Photographs in which Narcissa Malfoy lay contented, drooling on the pillow she clung to. That would be all well and good if said pillow hadn't been Harry Potter's chest. And if the fucker weren't giving Draco the peace salute.


	3. Harry and the Harem of Pretty Boys

**Harry Potter and the Harem of Pretty Boys  
**

* * *

Summary: Harry Potter wakes up in an universe wherein everyone is the opposite gender. Including himself. He is not amused.

* * *

Harry blinked, as he looked at his mirror self. "Huh," he said, eloquently, blinking owlishly at the image that stared back at him. "I have boobs," he informed himself, patting them with his hands, measuring and weighing them. "Why the hell do I have boobs?" he asked his mirror image, who looked as confused as he felt. At that moment, he would have noted that he might have made an attractive girl if the thought weren't disturbing. Somewhat. "I think I'm more disturbed by the fact this is turning me on, actually..." he said, before he scowled at his mirror image's hands, which continued to grope his own breasts, before he slapped both hands away. With each other.

It was a while before he finally managed to tear his eyes from his mirror self.

It was six hours before someone finally came to check in on him in his room at Gryffindor Tower, finding him covered head to toe on his bed's covers, including the curtains. "Mate, you in here?" a feminine voice came through the cover of the curtains. It sounded oddly familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place it. "Where IS she?" the same voice called, frustrated.

Harry just pulled the covers tighter around himself, hearing the clacking of heels as whatever girl had come check on him left.

Two hours later, four girls stormed in, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat as they entered chattering. They'd discover him, and then his social life would be over forever. Okay, so it was going to die stillborn, but it was still annoying to think about what the Daily Prophet would say about this. Even if it turned out to be hilarious in hindsight.

"I can't believe McGonagall!" said one of the girls, frustrated. "He took points from us because we couldn't find Harry before Transfiguration! It's not like we can find her if she tries to hide, she knows this castle better than all of us combined, and she has that stupid map with her!" it was the same girl that had spoken earlier, Harry could tell.

Wait... he?

And now that Harry had time to think about it, they had referred to him as a 'she'...

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked, raising his head from his hiding place (which had been surprisingly effective, as they hadn't noticed him until then).

* * *

Alba Dumbledore considered herself a very patient woman. But this was pushing the limits of her patience. "Pardon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Severina Snape sneered. "Making things up to gain attention, Potter!? If you spent as much time working on your Potions as you do on your fabrications, I daresay you might scrape an 'acceptable' in my class!"

"Male or female, your hair is the exact same," remarked Harry, rubbing his chin. "Anyway, this is a mess. Point is, I have memories of everyone being the opposite gender. I wonder what's happening back at my home universe..."

"Well, the night you went to sleep you did drink a bad Dreamless Sleep potion. It might have done something to your brain."

Snape scoffed. "Or she is just delusional."

"Or I could be just riding this body for a while. Anyway, while I'm here, I'm gonna enjoy it," said Harry, smiling as he stood up from the chair, his sizable breasts swaying gently. He had no idea how to put on a bra and it showed. "I have a newfound appreciation for the female gender, so I'm gonna go watch my dormmates shower. I will probably hate myself for this when I remember what they used to look like as men..."

"I approve of your tastes, Mr. Potter," Alba said, smiling kindly, "but I don't think the majority of the wizarding world will."

"You know, I had my suspicions, but I could never be sure," Harry said, looking somewhat solemn. "Well, if they don't like it, they can go stuff themselves. I'm gonna make an all girl harem!"

"Why you-" Snape began.

"And you can't be in it, Professor Snape, so don't even ask," Harry said.

* * *

Harry blinked. "You. What's your name again? You are so pompous that it kind of removed the knowledge from my mind," spoke the gender confused teen.

"How can you forget the name of I, Dracia Malfoy, heiress to Malfoy! Your filthy muggle blood must have gotten to your brain, I see!" crowed the blonde, smirking haughtily at him.

Now, here's a funny thing: Harry did not like Draco in the least. The boy was a git, plain and simple. Racist as all hell, elitist and overall annoying were all forms in which he would describe Draco Malfoy. There was one more. As a male, Draco had been a rather pretty boy, and that couldn't be denied. Even Ron would admit it, if only to do so in an insulting manner. Dracia Malfoy, his female counterpart, was strikingly beautiful, as Harry had half expected her to be.

"Miss Malfoy... You seem to have an unhealthy interest in me," said Harry, smiling widely. "It seems to me like you want to be my friend," he said, before he lounged forward and grabbed Malfoy's wrist, feeling the soft skin of her slender arm. Oh, he was going to enjoy this far more than he should. He might have found it disgusting and disturbing, but at this point, he was way past caring and bordering on hysteric, since he was trying to keep his mind off the fact that he was now a girl.

"Vincenta! Gregoria! Help me!" Malfoy shireked, as Harry pulled her away.

It was no use, as the two overweight trollspawn girls were left in the dust rapidly. Harry finally stopped on the quidditch pitch, having pulled his Firebolt from somewhere (he'd stashed it there earlier in preparation). "What say you we fly around a while? Oh, you don't have your broom? Don't worry, we'll share mine! I know you would just _love_ to take a ride on my broomstick!"

"Lemme go POTTEEAAAAAH!"

"Stop being such a scaredy cat, Drace! I can call you Drace, right? Of course I can! Anyway, ever wondered what a Wronski Feint feels like as a passenger?"

"What the- Nononono!"

"Brace yourself!"

* * *

"That was... that was... just amazing..." Dracia Malfoy said, as she planted her feet firmly in the ground. "Can we... do it again sometime?"

"Of course, Drace! All you need to do is ask!" Harry said, smiling.

Later, a redhead confronted Harry. He assumed her to be Ron's female counterpart. "Harry, what were you doing? Malfoy's a total bitch! You can't seriously be trying to make friends with he-"

Her diatribe was interrupted when Harry grabbed her by the tie and planted a kiss firmly on her lips. She struggled and resisted for a few seconds but then melted into it, moaning contentedly, being somewhat dazzed when they broke apart.

"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen," a bushy haired boy said, looking utterly perplexed. Probably Hermione's counterpart.

Harry winked at his best friend.

* * *

"Lesbian Twin Threesome?" asked Harry, looking at Fredericka and Georgina Weasley, both tall and lean girls that were clearly athletic in build.

"You got it!" they chorused.

Lawrence Brown, who wandered into the common room to see what was going on, fainted with a contented smile on his face.

* * *

Dracia Malfoy stared at the ceiling. She had an odd, far away look in her face. "The Dark Lady ordered me to kill Dumbledore. Thought you should know," she informed.

"I'm guessing she said she'd kill you if you couldn't manage it? Your father's probably driving himself spare trying to find a way to help you."

Dracia squirmed, but a pair of slender, soft arms encircled her waist, and her lover's hot breath brushed against the back of her neck.

"Don't worry, Drace. She'll never get to you. You're mine... mine..."

"Now, forever, and ever," Dracia muttered, running her hand over the arms around her slender waist, coming to rest her hands on top of Harry's own.

Harry smiled.

* * *

Harry wiped the blood that dripped from his lower lip before spitting what he had in his mouth, more blood. "Moody, I'm not done yet!" he snarled, brandishing his wand with his left arm, the right broken.

Moody nodded. "Very good lass, but not good enough!"

And the fight continued. For hours. Days. Weeks. Months.

Until finally, Harry was ready.

* * *

"I killed you once, knucklehead, what makes you think I couldn't repeat the feat?" asked Harry, a wide smile on his face as he stared at the broken, beaten and bruised black form of the one who'd made this world tremble in fear.

The Dark Lady sneered. "What you did as a baby should be merited to your filthy mudblood of a mother!"

"I'm not talking about that. Too long an explanation. Point is, I'm not from here. I'm from an alternate universe, but most importantly, I'm from the future, a future in which I already won. I knew exactly what to do. I knew what each and everyone of your horcruxes was, and where to find them. I also know the one true and surefire way to ensure your destruction. Now... come on, coward! I know you've got one last curse on you! Right here in my chest, if you've got the ovaries it takes to kill me! Show me your worth!"

The Elder Wand was raised by a trembling arm. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

But the green curse rebounded upon the caster and ended her life forever.

* * *

"Well, the ministry still sucks," said Dracia, rubbing her chin. "I wonder if I can step up on my mother's shoes..."

Harry smiled.

* * *

"And that's the story of how I saved the world," finished Harry as he sat on his overly stuffed armchair, holding a black haired little girl with the brightest green eyes on his arms, helping her stay in place while she sat on his lap. "Also how I became a Dark Lord-"

"Lady!" someone yelled, entering the Sofa Room (originaly throne room, but the throne was just way too uncomfortable... and small... Harry liked to cuddle). The woman that came in was wearing a rather tight catsuit that left nothing to the imagination and gave the appearance of leather, even though it was clearly much more comfortable than it could otherwise be. Magic enabled it. On her right sleeve there was a golden badge with the initials 'HLA' engraved in it, superimposed over Hogwarts' coat of arms. The witch herself had rather striking long red hair, freckles and brown eyes. "The Minister of Magic is speaking bullshit again!"

"Cornelia just never learns," Harry said, chuckling warmly. He grabbed a galleon from one of his pockets and held it to his mouth, in delicate, perfectly manicured fingers. "Assemble!"

"Does this mean I'll finally get to see Harry's Lesbian Army in action?" asked the excited little girl.

"That you will, Lily dear, that you will!" said Harry, chuckling. "Now that I think about it, I never did find out what happened in my home universe..."

* * *

Hermione Granger felt that she should be bleeding from the nose, but she didn't know why, as Harry Potter lay in the middle of his (her?) harem of pretty boys. It might have been an aneurysm out of sheer envy.


	4. Make a Difference

**Make a Difference  
**

* * *

Summary: Harry is summoned, after a harrowing victory in his war against Voldemort, to a world in which he is still needed. Some would say that he would be upset and even reticent to help, but those would forget that Harry is a hero, even if at times, he wishes he weren't.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath. "Professor Dumbledore..." he began, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. "I don't know what you were sucking on, or smoking or what have you inhaled, but I'd like to know what in the world possessed you to think this was a good idea!" he said, surprisingly with a startling lack of obvious vitriol. Instead there was a cold, sharp anger that dripped like thick venom from his every word, metaphorically speaking of course.

"Alas, my boy, I was outvoted. Perhaps I must assume the blame even so, considering it was my own research that brought us to this point, but know that it was never my wish to steal you from your world. The circumstances, however, are dire," the long bearded man said, solemn and sincere, as he looked at the boy he had summoned with eyes trained through years of reading boys much as himself. He did not like what he found. "Lord Voldemort is stronger than ever, his forces assemble while our resistance crumbles. He is winning, my boy, and the Order is not enough anymore. We need a hero. We need... you."

Harry looked at his desk. "I owe you much, and yet not enough, to do this for you, professor. You can be directly blamed for much of the pain in my life..." he explained, looking at Fawkes' perch on Dumbledore's desk, where the tiny, wrinkly chick was wiggling in its own ashes. He absent mindedly reached to pet its head with a finger, watched like a hawk by Dumbledore.

"I fear the differences in our worlds might be more significant than I thought. I have not meddled in your life in this world, my boy, as I believe your parents more than adequate for their task," Dumbledore said, frowning almost invisibly behind his significant amount of facial hair.

"Then they are alive?" Harry asked, looking somewhat surprised.

"Yes," replied Dumbledore, nodding. "I am to assume they perished in your world, instead of the Longbottoms?"

Harry nodded, not particularly liking to be reminded of his status as an orphan. "The Longbottoms, to my understanding, suffered a fate worse than even Death," Harry said, reminding himself why he fought the Death Eaters with those words. The monsters that would leave a child to grieve living parents... Nobody deserved something like that. It was just mindlessly and pointlessly cruel.

It was the act of a rabid beast.

"Your counterpart, young Harry, should be beginning his third year. He is a rather exemplary student, and I daresay he is a candidate for prefect and most likely Head Boy when the time comes. May I ask for details from yourself?"

"I'm a drop out," Harry stated, bluntly. "Never did go back to take my NEWTs," even though that should've been embarrassing, he said it with a wistful smile. "Your legacy sent myself and my two closest friends in a search for Voldemort's horcruxes across the country."

"Then I was right, he has extended his life unnaturally. These are most dire and grave news," spoke Dumbledore. "We cannot be certain they remain the same, but..."

"His diary, Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, Ravenclaw's Diadem, his pet snake Nagini, the Gaunt Signet Ring and, unintentionally, myself. I imagine Neville is the Boy Who Lived?" Harry said, seeing Dumbledore nod. "Does he have a dark magic scar on his forehead?"

At this, Dumbledore shook his head. "Young Neville has a scar, yes, but it is a perfectly ordinary curse scar. Nasty, of course, but it would be obvious to me if it were anything more than that, even if I could not tell what it was specifically," said Dumbledore, sighing.

"Good. Because I have no idea how to rid someone of that Horcrux. I got rid of it by fluke," he said, smiling slightly. "I'm not certain if it could even be reproduced. I was struck down with the Avada Kedavra casted through the Elder Wand, but I was its master at the time and accepted my death," he said, shrugging.

"You... know about the hallows?" asked Dumbledore, somewhat startled.

Harry chuckled. "Trinkets with overblown importance. The Stone brings back only shades, the cloak might as well be the same as any other, and even worse because, frankly, it's more of a blanket than a cloak, and the wand? It's just a wand that works for anyone who 'earns' it. The only reasons it is as powerful as it is are because it's really old and because a lot of people have used it. Also, the title of 'Master of Death'? Completely worthless. No strange or crazy powers of any sort."

"I... see. So you have come into contact with all three hallows?"

"I tossed the Resurrection Stone into the Forbidden Forest. Then I thought better of leaving it there for anyone to find it once I figured out that a simple 'Accio' would call it, and tossed it into a volcano, can't even remember which. The Elder Wand is in the pockets of your robe in your tomb. Pink with purple polka dots, by the way," Harry answered Dumbledore's unspoken question, to an approving nod and a chuckle from the old man. Harry was not surprised Dumbledore was unfazed by thoughts of his own death, the old man was more than prepared to face it any day, and that was why Harry respected him. "As for the cloak? Eh, I figured that the world could use another generation of pranksters, so I'm keeping it on reserve in case I ever come across children that might need it."

Dumbledore chuckled once again. "Very well, then, Mr. Potter, I am proud to think that I had a hand in raising such an illustrious young man as yourself, even if it was another me. Mistakes were made, certainly, but you have risen above, and that is a credit to the strength of your character," said Dumbledore, closing his eyes and seeming pensive for a few seconds. "Have you thought about teaching? You seem to be the kind of man I would like to influence our youth, perhaps one even stronger than myself," Harry remembered that Dumbledore admitted to succumbing to the Stone's temptation, and his respect for him went up a few notches when Dumbledore admitted his own weaknesses, "though I find myself asking how skilled you are in the area of Defense against the Dark Arts..."

"I have some experience," Harry admitted. "Perhaps you could sit in on one of my classes. I trust you are still a legilimens?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Then you could use that ability to search my mind for that. I will try to make it easier, but I'm not a good enough occlumens to help much. Sorry," he said, sheepishly.

"No worries, my boy, I am skilled enough in the art to make up for any deficiencies you might have. There is always an opportunity to patch up your education in Occlumency, you have to but ask," he offered.

Harry nodded and then looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes, neither blinking for a few long minutes, until both broke the staring contest and had to blink moisture into their eyes rapidly.

"I misjudged you, Mister Potter. I believed you a strong man, but it seems I was mistaken," Dumbledore began, and Harry looked slightly hurt, but he looked at Dumbledore questioningly. "You are the very picture of resilience. Indeed, you are the kind of man I wish to enlighten my students in defense against the most treacherous branch of magic. Your experience is more than enough to warrant my recommendation and approval."

"Thank you, professor."

"No, Harry, thank you for being as understanding as you have been. I understand that this must still be hard for you," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Perhaps the shock will settle tonight. If you need anything... again, you have to but ask."

Harry nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Just... A word?" Dumbledore asked, as Harry started to stand up from the chair he'd been sitting in for their entire meeting. "I understand that you have unpleasant memories of some of our students. I would ask you to not hold their possible future against them..."

Harry knew he meant Malfoy, and how Dumbledore had witnessed his own assassination at the little snot's hands... or rather, how Malfoy had eventually been the cause of Dumbledore's death. Harry shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot do that, Professor. I know what they could become, and I won't forget it. But I'm not a saint nor a paragon... I can't judge anyone," he said, standing up fully and nodding solemnly.

Dumbledore sighed, but smiled. "You continue to impress me, Professor Potter..."

"I will never get used to that," Harry said, laughing.

* * *

All was not honky dory, as might be expected. Harry had dreaded one specific meeting, perhaps more than any other one, and he was having it right at that moment. The Order of the Phoenix would gather. It had never disbanded in this world, not fully, as too many members had lived, but it would still be a while before they were organized enough to gather properly. Meanwhile, Harry would meet with a few specific members of the order, on Dumbledore's request.

"Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter," he said, almost stiffly, greeting the family he never had into his office. He struggled to maintain a straight face, struggled to not reach out and hug the parents he wished he'd had. Struggled to not hold onto them, fearing that the illusion would crash down around him. He couldn't help the hitch in his breath as the eyes that were so similar to his own bore into him.

"You look like my son," said James Potter, casually, clearly having blurted out his thoughts before he could filter them.

Lily Potter slapped the back of his head, looking apologetically at Harry. "I'm sorry, Professor, but he forgets his manners sometimes," which clearly didn't please her, given that he just smiled and she tossed a nasty, but playful, glare his way. Good god, his father was a child like Sirius! He was... He was perfect, Harry decided, exactly how he thought his father would be... well, a half of it anyway. It remained to see if his father could also be a responsible adult while still being a goofball. "I am Lily and he's James, but you know us already, as I imagine Professor Dumbledore introduced us. I'm afraid he didn't give us your name, mr..."

"Harry," began the aforementioned Wizard, deciding there was no point in lying to them. "My name is Harry James Potter," he said. "That is why I look like your son. When Dumbledore utilized the ritual to summon a hero from another world..."

"Hah! I told you Harry would be an awesome auror in the future!" James crowed, doing a small victory dance before reaching over and pulling Harry into a one armed hug. "You've grown so big! I think you're taller than me!"

"He isn't," Lily informed, rolling her eyes. "And of course our son is an awesome auror. He takes after his mother!"

James pouted, as he looked at his wife.

Harry... laughed. Heartily. He laughed more than he thought he should have. It hadn't been that funny. It was a poor joke. But... he loved it. He had wished, all of his life, that he could be part of something like this. The feeling warmed him, brought a nice feeling to his chest... but it left an odd hollow when he realized that these were not his parents. These were not the people who had brought him into the world and who would love him unconditionally. They had a son. They had a Harry. They didn't need him. He swallowed a thick wad and decided to get it over with. "I am... not your son."

The finality of the statement hit the Potters like a ton of bricks, as they both looked perplexed at the young man who had said that after laughing at the antics of the married couple. "What do you mean, honey? Of course you're our son!"

Harry shook his head. "I am not a future version of your son. I was pulled here from another world. He and I are different... I... My world is very different, I'm sure," he said, trying to smile, but failing to make it convincing in any way.

"How so?" asked Lily, perplexed.

James seemed somewhat more confused. "It can't have been THAT different. Are you from a world in which you are the Boy Who Lived?" asked the Potter patriarch, as if he'd hit the jackpot.

Harry nodded. "Voldemort visited Godric's Hollow instead of Longbottom Manor. You tried to hold him off..." he said, choking slightly on his words.

"No..." muttered Lily, as horrible realization dawned on her.

"I can imagine the result of that," said James grimly.

"Indeed," Harry agreed, looking grim himself. "When... after that, I was sent to live with Aunt Petunia. She... didn't like me."

Understatement of a century. "W-What?" Lily asked, startled. "But that... she's the absolute last resort in case there's nobody else who can take you in! Was there... that must mean..."

"If our Fidelius broke, then Wormtail betrayed us in your world as well, in which case he would have been taken off the list of potential guardians," spoke James, sounding almost as if he didn't want to believe his own words. The betrayal had cut him deeply and it hurt even today. "But even... even if he did, what about Padfoot or Moony?"

"What about Alice and Frank?" asked Lily, following in James.

"In that order? Azkaban, I don't know, and St. Mungo's Long Term wards," Harry spoke, sighing, knowing that Lily referred to the Longbottoms. "Like I said, Aunt Petunia didn't like me, and neither did Vernon or Dudley," he said, rubbing at an insistent itch on his right arm.

"Wait, Petunia remained married to that whale?" asked Lily, confused.

Harry blinked. Why wouldn't his aunt remain with his uncle? "Didn't they here?"

"Petunia left Vernon one month after Dudley's fifth birthday. The man is just unbearably annoying," James said, rolling his eyes. "She's just as bad."

Lily clutched at her heart. Petunia detested Magic. And Vernon had been even worse before he'd been obliviated from all knowledge of it, following his divorce from Petunia. So... this meant... this meant that... "Oh god," she nearly sobbed as she flung himself to cling onto Harry's lean frame. "My baby, what did they do to you!?" she asked, looking up at him and holding his face in her hands, running her thumbs through his cheeks.

Harry felt the tears rolling, but he couldn't fathom why he was crying so easily, so simply. He hadn't cried in so long... had promised him he'd never cry again since he was five... so why... why was he crying now? Why was he crying now that his mother was sobbing on his shoulder. Why did he cry now that he had what he had always wanted?

His arms acted of their own accord and he found himself clinging to his mother for support. At that moment, it didn't matter that they weren't the original pair. It didn't matter that Harry hadn't known her until then. He just squeezed his mother as tightly as he could and cried on her shoulder, as she cried on his. It took a very long time for them to separate, and Harry could only look at his father for a few seconds. It had taken a very simple gesture.

James' face had been serious and determined, and he'd only nodded at Harry, but that had been the only thing Harry had needed to take several steps forward and letting the stronger, bigger form of his father envelop him and the mother that had snaked her way into her son's side once again. It hurt, somehow. It hurt him deep inside, to know that he had missed this for so long in his life. That this had been the vast gulf that separated his facsimile of a mother in Mrs. Weasley from his real mother.

But that feeling had been squashed by the warmth of finally finding what he had been missing for twenty long and hard years.

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter found parental love and support, and merely basked on it.

Harry sniffed. "It... it hurts," he admitted, finally, as he felt himself relax completely.

"What?" James asked, clearly confused.

"I... There's a part of me... that still remembers that I'm not your son. That... that I could never have this. Have you. And... and it's right. I'm not your son. I'm just a copy... a cheap replaceme-"

The resounding crack of skin on skin stopped him cold, leaving Harry busy cradling the injured, reddening cheek.

"Harry James Potter!" began Lily Potter, drawing herself to her full height. "I will not have you spouting that nonsensical drivel! I don't give a flying fuck if you're from this dimension or any other! You are my son, I love you, and nothing will change that!" She said, before she once again pulled him into a hug. "Don't say that..." she repeated, pulling him closer and tighter against herself. "Don't say that ever again..."

"She's right, you know," James said, smiling at Harry. "It doesn't matter to me what happens, Harry, or where you came from. You are my son, and that is all that matters."

All barriers broke and the pain of two decades spilled forth.

From behind the door, a bearded old man turned around and left, wiping a few tears with his sleeve, as he smiled. Nostalgia tinted his smile with sadness, however. As the old man reached his desk, he penned a letter. He had much to say and too little time. "Fawkes, old friend, would you mind taking this to my brother Aberforth?"

The phoenix thrilled and Dumbledore smiled faintly.

Later that day, Lily went to find her son, who had been laughing and playing around with his friends after the end of classes for the day, and simply hugged him.

"I love you, son," she said, once she pulled away. "No matter what happens."

She had left a confused boy behind. As she left, the boy had looked at his father, who merely shook his head and grinned before waving and leaving behind his wife.

* * *

"You don't need to do this," Lily had said, her voice soft, as he adjusted the Dragonhide leather armor that protected his frame against lesser curses and shrapnel. He threw long battle robes, with narrow, yet unrestricting, sleeves, long and flowing so that it hid the movements of his feet, yet charmed to never tangle with his movements. "This is not your fight. It was never your fight."

"No..." Harry said, shooking his head. "It isn't," he admitted, "but does it make a difference? This isn't my world, but what difference does it make? Is it any less worthy of living in peace, without having to fear a bloodthirsty maniac? It isn't. This world deserves peace. You deserve peace," he finished, softly.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this," James firmly spoke, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "We... We should be able to clean up this mess for you, so you and everyone else could have a bright future."

"But you can't," said Harry, resolutely. "No one can... No one but me," he said, firmly. "This is my responsibility because I have power."

Albus Dumbledore entered the Defense Professor's office, and nodded in approval. "Well said," he spoke. "Battle fast approaches. The castle will be ready for siege. The students will be kept safe at all costs. This is the final stronghold, the last line we'll ever hold," spoke Dumbledore, passionately. "We must not, we will not, let it fall."

Harry nodded. "That is why I must fight. Now and forever," he said. "But you... you have a child. You have someone who needs you. I have what I wanted. I have what I have always wished for. Even if it has only been a few months... I love you. Both of you. You are the parents I had always hoped to have," Harry said, embracing his mother one last time and then being pulled into a hug by his father. "I don't want the other me to grow up without you. Don't let him fall into loneliness, like I. Be there for him. That's... that's all I ask. Maybe a little sibling or two wouldn't be out of the question, though," he added cheekily.

Lily sniffed, before smiling. "We'll get right on it, boss," she said, mock-saluting.

James laughed openly.

But then, it was time, and Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder. With a snap and a crack, they were gone, and Lily let the tears of sorrow, of grief for her dimensionally stranged son, as he went to face potential death. Only her husband's embrace stopped her from falling to the ground and weeping in fright for his life.

* * *

Voldemort shrieked in rage, tossing a veritable rainbow of curses at the mere boy that even now, infuriatingly, kept pace with him. This was not possible. He was Lord Voldemort, heir of Slytherin, most frightening Dark Lord in centuries, he was the most powerful of them all, and he could not kill a simple boy barely out of his teen years! It infuriated him beyond belief, and the boy was taunting him by openly ignoring the fight to take out targets of opportunity, distracted Death Eaters who were confronting a member of the Order of the Phoenix or the odd Auror sent by Bones.

He growled in frustration as a chain of curses left his wand.

String after string after string had turned the battlefield into a veritable wasteland, a big part of the Forbidden Forest having been consumed in the assault, but the castle remained ever tauntingly distant still. Only when there were no more worms distracting him from attacking the boy in full did Voldemort finally calm and start to act rationally. He stepped up his game, pouring all of his not inconsiderable skill into continuing to fight his opponent and began to gain the advantage.

The boy was powerful. Exceptionally so. But his reluctance to move to kill and the obvious inexperience in comparison to the Dark Lord were what sealed the deal.

It didn't take long for the James Potter look-alike to begin to feel the effects of the first Sectumsempra that the Dark Lord had managed to land on him. Snape's invention was an amazing spell for combat, as it didn't require to travel through the air to hit its target, being as instantaneous as if you were touching the target. It's downside was the long incantation and the fact that it would hit whatever you had your wand pointed at when you finished casting it, and usually, it was hard to aim it at someone. Voldemort was a master with his Yew Wand, however, and it showed when he sliced the boy's left arm open and very nearly split it in twain.

The Boy, which Voldemort was starting to refer to in his head as 'cockroach' due to the startling resilience, merely increased the intensity with which he fought, as they both engaged in a one on one, mano a mano duel of epic proportions, spells flying back and forth. A collection of wounds started to form on the both of them, though the Dark Lord was clearly holding the advantage with only superficial damage in contrast to the bleeding, open wounds that slowed down and debilitated The Boy.

Voldemort knew he would win soon, and his chance showed when an apparation left him in prime position to use his prodigious skill to banish The Boy to the ground... from point blank range. It had the same effect as if a giant had stomped on him, as it left him plastered against the ground, groaning and in pain. A torture curse soon followed, "Crucio" dropping from Voldemort's lips with practiced ease.

Curiosity filled the Dark Lord when The Boy attempted to lift his wand, and himself, to continue fighting. Perhaps even respect for a warrior of that caliber, but he ruthlessly squashed any sympathy. A flick of Voldemort's wand had the boy nearly shrieking in pain from another Cruciatus Curse, stopping him from continuing the fight even as he lay broken and beaten. "I must admit that your tenacity impresses me, boy," Voldemort admitted, smiling unpleasantly enough for it to be a sneer. "Although I can't fathom why you would offer such resistance. Accept your defeat, boy! Surrender, and you will be spared! Your power is magnificent! Your skill is rough, but I can polish it. I can make you greater than ever before... if you swear allegiance to me and take my mark!"

Harry chuckled as he heard the overly dramatic, pompous asshole's spiel. His high pitched voice made it far less dignified and threatening than it could have been. "You want to know why I fight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the itch on the back of his throat and the burning in his lungs. He was a wizard and thus tougher than your average person, but he wasn't indestructible, and that was probably his ribs poking his lungs. "It's really simple."

"And what, pray tell, could motivate such defiance?" asked Voldemort, raising an elegantly trimmed eyebrow.

"It's not about glory, fame or power. I don't want to be recognized and I am not seeking a reward. I don't need more power and I'm content with my station in life. I fight, Tom, because I have the power to. I fight for those who can't. I fight because I can make a difference!" he yelled, coughing a few times and splattering his dragonhide vest with blood.

"Foolish child! Lost to the meaningless, senseless notions that Dumbledore spouts, I see!" barked Voldemort, glaring at the soon to be corpse.

"You're right! I am Dumbledore's man, through... and through! But there's... something more important... you should note... than that!" Harry said, grinning nastily at the Dark Lord. "I have.. friends!"

"What the-" Voldemort didn't have the time to do much of anything as he was forced to turn around to erect a shield to stop several curses and charms from hitting him, realizing that the battle was lost and his Death Eaters had been rounded up and restrained while he'd been busy dealing with the overly difficult cockroach. He snarled in hatred as he prepared to destroy them all.

He was still going strong, and none of them stood a chance against him! They couldn't even crack his shield through sustained fire, and when a lull in the spellcasting came, as they needed a break to regain their breath, he lowered the shield and raised his wand, pointing it at the closest man.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Dark Lord Voldemort was no more, as his body slumped to the ground, lifeless. Behind him, a broken, beaten and bruised Harry Potter felt his arm hit the ground, all strength leaving him.

Only contentment accompanied him.

"I... did it..." he muttered, nearly delirious. "This... is the difference... I could make... I'm... glad..."

Darkness claimed him, and Harry Potter lay on the battlefield, next to the corpse of Tom Marvolo Riddle, with a smile on his face.


	5. Curtain Call

**Curtain Call  
**

* * *

Summary: The simplest solution I could think of to a persistent problem.

* * *

"Why don't we just sew the curtains shut?" asked Harry, tilting his head in confusion, as he saw his Godfather and Remus trying to force the curtains on Walburga Black's portrait shut.

Sirius raised a finger, opening his mouth, before he suddenly seemed to think better. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Harry shrugged, produced a thread and needle from... somewhere best not said... and had Remus and Sirius hold the curtains in place as he worked, just in case. It didn't take long, and soon, Walburga Black found herself incapable of opening the curtains, and just shrieked impotently behind them, nobody hearing her.

"Clearly, Harry is the greatest hero this world has ever seen," muttered Tonks, dryly.


	6. Dragon Testicles!

**Dragon Testicle Destroyer  
**

* * *

Summary: You know how every kid who has watched DragonBall has tried to do the Kamehameha at least once? Yeah, well, turns out that not all of them failed to do it...

* * *

Harry looked at his hands.

Dudley looked at Harry's hands.

Both grinned. "That. Was. Awesome!" they yelled in unison.

Their eyes then trailed, as one, to the knocked down tree that still had a large burnt patch.

"You know, if this is being a freak, I so want to be a freak!" Dudley commented. "Maybe you're a Saiyan? I mean, you learned the Kamehameha after seeing it once, so..."

Harry, just happy that something had gone his way, just shrugged. "Maybe that's why they think I'm a freak? I'm really weak, though..."

"Well, duh," Dudley said, rolling his eyes. "You don't train! You've gotta train really hard so that when your Saiyan buddies come pick you up, you can beat them up! And I need to learn how to use a sword so I can cut off their tails!"

And so begins a tale of childish innocence and wizarding stupidity.

* * *

"Dudley! I just figured out how to fly!" Harry called, floating slowly towards his cousin. "It's really slow, though, and it tires me out really easily!"

"It's because you didn't practice making smaller ki blasts all the time! You've gotta train harder, Harry! And now you're gonna practice your moves while flying, so you can practice both at once!" Dudley, with a fake gray moustache and beard, spoke, nodding sagely. He was squat, short and looked like a tree stump, so they'd decided he would fill in for Master Roshi until he grew tall enough to do Krillin. Dudley had already asked his mother to shave his head, and she had agreed, not thinking much of it.

His father had been a skinhead at some point, so he approved heartily of Dudley following in his footsteps.

All was going according to plan, as he watched Harry struggle to add a third dimension to his training... tatas? Well, it was something along those lines.

* * *

It was a strange day in which the Dursley family would be nice to Harry Potter, Freak amongst Freaks... but this would be the day. Why? Because Harry and Dudley had been watching DragonBall Z some more, and had seen Gohan's heroics in Orange Star City. Harry had concentrated really hard, and his hair had become all spiky and yellow like a Super Saiyan, but he hadn't felt his powers increase very much (he supposed he was just so weak it didn't make much of a difference). It still served to hide his identity like the Golden Warrior's.

Dudley approved heartily and they also got him a mask (because Harry wasn't fast enough to do it so his face wouldn't be seen), and then they set off to London... only to stumble upon a classical bank robbery. They had looked at the hold up, nodded at each other and Harry had just rushed in. The sheer shock at seeing a kid, let alone a kid that moved that fast, had provided a few precious seconds of distraction, and Harry had somehow utilized his hard earned Martial Arts skills to incapacitate the robbers before they could even fire once.

The last one gave up after having seen a kid punch someone so hard they puked.

* * *

"Dudley! I just figured out how to make that cool aura thing!" Harry yelled, flying at a much more acceptable pace to where Dudley stood.

"Awesome!" Dudley yelled, and they high fived.

A long time ago, this would've left Harry's hand stinging. These days, Dudley had to keep up with his training to make sure Harry didn't break his hand by accident when they high fived.

* * *

Petunia Dursley screeched as the mugger shot her nephew. Even if she hated the little blighter, her son liked him well enough and she didn't want Dudley to suffer, and the little freak had been doing heroics at her son's command...

... Except the bullet that should have penetrated his skull just bounced off harmlessly. "I'm bulletproof?" he asked, rubbing the spot were a purpling spot could already be seen. He was clearly in pain and ignoring it. "This is awesome! Maybe I really am a Saiyan after all!" he said, grinning widely.

The mugger looked confused before aiming his gun at Petunia. He supposed he must have missed or something, he was too drunk to really think things through.

That was when Harry simply took a step forward and punched him. The punch threw him halfway across the alley, landing against a wall. "Don't point that at Aunt Petunia!" he yelled, pointing his finger at the robber, where a small golden orb appeared. It was then launched at the mugger, who raised his head to look at the kid when he spoke the threat. The golden ball slammed on his forehead, which in turn slammed his head against the wall once again, knocking him unconscious.

Petunia just hugged her nephew, who had previously only been useful as a bag carrier, and showered him with kisses, apologizing for her treatment of him.

"'s okay! Goku always forgives, and Dudley said that if I'm gonna be a hero like him, I gotta forgive people too!" he said, smiling brightly.

All at once, Privet Drive's opinion of Harry Potter changed from 'That Boy With The Horrible Parents Who Was Probably A Bad Seed Too' to 'The Little Hero of Little Whinging'. Petunia worked fast.

* * *

"Wizard? I'm not a wizard! I'm a saiyan!" Harry said, confused.

"I dun' 'no what tah' is," said the giant of a man, scratching his plentiful facial hair. "Ask prefesser Dumbledore, he oughta 'no," said the man, reasonably.

"Saiyans are an alien race of intergalactic superwarriors!" said Dudley, helpfully.

"Eh, what's an alien?"

Hagrid was introduced to DragonBall. He remarked on the similarities to werewolves and stayed there watching their VHS tapes with the series on them for far longer than he'd intended to. He was absolutely in love with Shenron, and said that if he ever got the chance, he was gonna go look for the Dragonballs. It took an entire day for Hagrid to actually take Harry to Diagon Alley, at which point Dudley begged to come along too.

The day they got there, they met one Quirinus Quirrel. "He has two Ki signals!" Harry yelled, pointing at Quirrel, clearly happy about finding someone weird. "Mister! How do you do that? Are you carrying a baby on the back of your head or something?"

Quirrel screeched in rage and surprise, but when he tried to attack Harry upon being discovered, Harry just reacted by instinct and punched him on the nose, sending him flying back. The whole thing had been over in less than a second, and then Quirrel smashed whatever was in the back of his head against the wall of a shop.

"Hah, what a joker, Prefesser Quirrel," Hagrid said, laughing uproariously. "Anyway, less get ye money!"

* * *

"You- He's flying! What the hell!" the Goblin in charge of the cart ride sputtered.

"I need to train myself to fly faster and better, so do you mind if I go behind the cart, following it?" asked Harry, tilting his head.

"Fuck it, I don't care, do whatever you want!" the Goblin yelled, muttering curses under his breath.

Dudley found it awesome.

* * *

"And then I punched him in the face," said Harry, finishing his tale.

"A most intriguing tale, full of worry and excitement," said Garrick Ollivander, as he looked through his wand collection searching for one in particular. "A ha! Here it is! Holly and Phoenix Feather! A most peculiar choice, but I think the most likely, as well! Why, this wand's brother gave you that scar!"

"My wand has an evil brother? Awesome!"

And then Dudley and Harry high fived again, Dudley was left cradling an injured hand. He cursed the Saiyans for being overpowered, as he wasn't growing in strength as fast as Harry.

* * *

"Wow, you're an arse," Dudley spoke, looking at Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy sputtered at being insulted by a lowly muggle of all things.

"Besides, I don't know how much Saiyan blood I got in me. I mean, I guess I've got some, since I get stronger really quickly and I can turn Super Saiyan and do the aura thing, but it could be very little for all I know!" Harry said, disapprovingly. "It doesn't matter how little I have! What matters is how I use it!"

Draco Malfoy was then treated to every moral lesson DragonBall had to offer. He wandered off Madam Malkin's with the idea that there was no problem you could not punch to death. He found himself pleased with his new ideology, and his father said it was as worthy as any other one. His mother said that she would prefer he work his way around problems instead of confronting them head on, but it was still an improvement over crying to daddy every time something didn't go his way.

* * *

"That's... bloody cool," Ron Weasley stated, as his eyes shone with hero whorship.

Then a bushy haired girl named Hermione Granger wandered in, asking about a toad.

"Oh, this is great! I've been looking to practice Instant Transmission! I got it down, but it's really hard to keep track of my target, and it's really disorienting! I wonder how Goku managed it so easily... "

Hermione blinked. "Magic," she said to herself, shaking her head. "Can you find the toad, then?"

"Sure! Gimme a second!"

And then Harry disappeared with the strange sound and flickering image that accompanied a succesful instant transmission.

Then he reappeared with a toad in hand. "It's this one, right? It kind of feels like the ki of the boy behind you," said Harry, handing Hermione the toad.

Hermione and the boy sat in the compartment, and they talked about non important things. There were many questions made about Harry's powers, but all he said was that he'd trained really hard, and he was still way too weak. They assumed it was Boy Who Lived special training and let it go.

* * *

"Albus! Harry Potter just FLEW over the boats!"

"Minerva, we've seen weirder."

* * *

"Albus, I think Harry might be a little crazy."

"Why would you think so, Minerva?"

"Well, he has challenged all of his professors to fight and Quirrel still cries every time Harry so much as looks at him. Honestly, I'm kinda worried..."

"It'll be okay, Minerva."

* * *

"There was a commotion in flying class, the Longbottom boy almost fell off his broom, but Harry saved him."

"See? I told you it'd be okay, he's going to be a little hero, Minerva, just you watch!"

Dumbledore ignored his Ravenclaw and Gryffindor heads of house as he played with the strange muggle contraption that one of his old graduates had gifted him. "Gotta catch 'em all..." He repeated, like a mantra.

* * *

Ron Weasley insulted Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger ran off crying.

Troll.

You know, the usual.

Except...

Harry stood over the body of the troll. "And that's what you get for picking on my friends!" he said, crossing his arms over the small, yet muscular, chest that had been exposed by the troll ripping his robes off him. Harry had displayed absurd durability, as he'd gotten hit by the troll's club, stamped against a wall and used as a secondary club to smash the porcelain and bathroom stalls. He was now bleeding from practically everywhere, but it was clearly not bothering him.

Hermione realized she was a very precocious girl. She realized this when she began to drool over the chiseled features of the boy that had just beaten up a Troll in hand to hand combat. She, on some level, realized he shouldn't have those muscles.

And the rest of her gave zero damns about it.

* * *

"Dun' worry 'Arry! Fluffy needs a stron' 'n stern 'and!" Hagrid informed, as he nursed the wounds that his puppy's middle head had obtained when it got into a fistfight with Harry Potter. "I reckon he won' be gettin' into 'ny more trouble now," continued the jovial half giant.

"He was really good! But I seriously need an opponent that's like me, small and strong. Large beasts are all well and good, but it's just not the same to a real fight," explained Harry, as Madame Pomfrey healed HIS cuts.

* * *

The Quibbler was the only diary to post anything about Saiyans.

The Prophet kept going on and on about special training. Harry was confused. He wasn't doing anything special. He was just training very hard. Oh, well, he supposed it didn't matter.

* * *

Harry's first year summer went much as you'd expect. He prevented a bank robbery, six muggings and sought out two martial arts masters to utterly demolish as he learned their abilities WHILE they fought. He felt really good after it, while they were left wondering just what the hell was going on.

* * *

"I think it's a basilisk, and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets should be in the girls' bathroom," Hermione said.

Everyone looked at her.

"I asked Ginny. She was the one possessed, and she had enough vague memories that it clued me in," she spoke, shrugging.

"Sounds good. I think I can feel the basilisk anyway. Grab onto me!"

It was a good thing Harry could feel ki, because he closed his eyes and fought the Basilisk without looking. He wrestled with, and eventually killed, the massive snake. "Well, that was fun," he said, cracking his neck.

* * *

Third year, Harry beat up Sirius Black. Then he beat up Peter Pettigrew. Then he beat up Severus Snape. Then he found out that Dementors and Ki Blasts don't mix. Also, during the two summers that passed in this timeframe, Harry managed to find a way to use the Kaio Ken, but it hurt loads and he could only use it times four before he collapsed from exhaustion. He also trained some more, deciding he would now work towards achieving a REAL super saiyan transformation and not the one he now realized was fake.

Also, Peter was captured, Sirius got a trial and cleared, and Snape decided he would no longer antagonize the kid that could punch so hard as to create craters in the ground.

* * *

Harry was chosen as the Hogwarts Champion. Everyone else went 'Knew it!', and they wished the other schools' champions luck on who got the second place.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang found themselves confused by the fact that Hogwarts found absolutely no problem with a fourteen years old boy competing against two others three years his seniors. They pointed out Harry Potter's track record. Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour paled when they realized they had to compete against a boy who beat up hellhounds, trolls and basilisks with ease.

"Oh crap," the other schools, as a whole, thought.

* * *

Harry beat the crap out of the dragon he'd been assigned. A Sweidsh Short Snout, or something like that, Harry didn't much care. It was so weak he didn't even have to use Kaio Ken!

* * *

"Actually, he's totally oblivious," stated Hermione Granger, changing the page she was reading from with a flick of her hand, the enchanted book following her movements without her touching it. "Which is why I asked the moment McGonagall told us," she added, as she saw both Parvati and Lavender pout at her.

Then she leaned forward and gathered them both close to her, so as to give them an extremely important secret.

"Girls, I've seen him shirtless. He was a tasty treat when he was eleven. Don't even let me get started on what he looks like now!" she said, her tone overly charged with mock lust.

Both Parvati and Lavender pouted harder. "You lucky witch!" they yelled in unison.

"Oh yes! You thought I'd let the boy who beat up a troll for me get away? No way!" Hermione yelled, laughing as she returned to the book she had been ignoring for a few seconds.

* * *

Harry shed his robes, and there was a crowdwide gasp as his chiseled torso was revealed, including all the scars he'd acquired through his heroics (from before he was damage-proof) and his fights with the troll, Cerberus and Basilisk. He was wearing only a speedo, on Hermione's suggestion, and it was clear the females in the crowd were appreciative.

Fleur Delacour blinked.

Viktor Krum blinked.

Ludo Bagman coughed into his wand, which broke everyone from their stupor. "Go!"

With two flickers of Instant Transmission, Harry was gone and then he was back with Hermione in tow. With another flicker of instant transmission, he was gone again.

Krum gave him a nod of gratitude when Harry shot a small energy ball at the bonds that held his hostage in place, and Fleur gave him a peck on the cheek once they were on the shore when he got the overly affectionate grindylows off her. It had been a moment of distraction that allowed them to rip her swimsuit apart until it was just a bikini instead of the modest one piece it'd been before.

Nobody complained except Fleur herself.

* * *

Harry Won the Triwizard tournament by just flying over the maze, got transported to Little Hangleton and beat up a whole bunch of Death Eaters that Barty Crouch Jr. had brought in as backup. Voldemort didn't get to rise back, it had only been an attempt at assassination because nobody knew where Voldemort was. There had been no Peter Pettigrew to find him, is what I'm saying.

* * *

"The sun, the moon and the stars... the plants and the animals... all living things, let me share your power!" Harry intoned, as he held his arms up to the sky. All of a sudden, he felt a massive rush of power, and he held a bright blue orb that floated above his palm. He felt incredibly giddy, and he could feel waves of power rolling from it. Then he reared back... and threw it up to the sky.

It was a good thing it was New Year, and the ginormous explosion was thought to be just amazing fireworks, or else THAT would've broken the Statute of Secrecy something fierce. Sirius just found it awesome.

* * *

Hermione socked Dolores Umbridge across the face. Hard.

"How dare you ruin education for everyone!" she yelled, glaring at the woman.

Eventually, she convinced Harry to threaten the minister to withdraw her, else he'd make the building go boom. Harry thought it was gross misuse of his powers, but Hermione had been very convincing. Also, once the amount of influence she had on Harry Potter became known, the Prophet launched a smear campaign on her as a way to indirectly get to Harry himself. Why? Well, because he'd offended the minister and Umbridge, of course.

"Chance of giving a fuck?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. "Zero percent!" she added, turning around and looking over her shoulder at the rest of the great hall. "Come on, Harry! I found a way to make a TV run off magic!"

"Awesome! I never did finish the Buu saga!"

* * *

Dumbledore had a lot of free time after catching all one hundred and fifty catchable Pokemon (and using a glitch to get Mew too), so he went ahead and collected the horcruxes, using Riddle's diary and some sort of complicated ritual to make it easier. Then Harry blew them all up with a miniature spirit bomb, as the force of good would destroy the evil in the artifacts without harming anything good, hence without destroying the founders' relics or the Stone of Resurrection.

The Elder Wand was destroyed that day, much to Dumbledore's relief.

* * *

Harry saw Dolohov hit Hermione with a curse and just lost it, transforming into a Super Saiyan for the first time... or into something similar.

Even then he did not kill any of them, even though he hunted down and beat up every Death Eater he could.

* * *

Voldemort quietly faded into nothingness, with no Horcruxes to anchor him to the world.

Happy ending for everyone!

The epilogue was still crap, though.


	7. Cap My Point

**Cap My Point**

* * *

Summary: Harry Potter is drunk. He is clearly much better at this whole heroism business when drunk, as seen by his assault on the ministry. Starring Harry as Soldier Gaga and featuring Snape as Spyonce.

* * *

Harry looked at the Firewhiskey bottle. Then he threw it away and it smashed into a thousand pieces against a wall.

He giggled, took another, and gulped it down in all of twelve seconds.

He giggled.

* * *

A stern faced Harry Potter looked at the gathered children.

"Today, is a good day. GIVE THEM HELL, BOYS! And Luna."

"What about me?" Ginny asked, glaring at him.

"You're one of the guys, Ginny," Ron countered.

"You're manlier than Ron," Hermione added, helpfully.

"Hey!"

* * *

"Nice work!" Harry said, pointing at Luna, "Good work," he continued, pointing at Neville, "outstanding!" he finished, pointing at Ginny. Then he looked around. "Deploy a sentry here," he added, pointing at the ceiling.

Ron shrugged. "He's the leader."

And so Ron stuck his own feet to the ceiling. He proved that people never do look up when he kept stunning the same group of idiots for fifteen minutes until he ran out of fuel to power the sticking charm and fell on them, knocking them out physically so that the Ennervate charm couldn't revive them. And then he walked away.

* * *

"CHARGE FORWARD!" Harry yelled, as the Ministry Five (as Ron had stayed behind) did exactly that and used their Thestral Rides to trample several Death Eaters. "The worm has turned, gentlemen!" Harry stated, pointing at a random doorway.

Just about everyone took that as a cue and flung spells in the direction Harry pointed, hitting a pair of Death Eaters that had been trying to surprise them.

* * *

"Eeeargh- Hush, hush! Rally 'round! Help me cap this point!"

Everyone rallied around Harry as he spoke and... captured the choke point that was a narrow hallway that led to the Hall of Prophecy. Several Death Eaters were trounced by the fact that they had to walk in a straight line into a wall of spells.

* * *

"Left!" Everyone swayed left, "right!" everyone swayed right, "left!" everyone swayed left, "right!"

Ginny wondered how Harry could even see the Sectumsempra they dodged coming. The gouges on the wall behind the Ministry Group kept appearing as they dodged more and more of the lethal spells.

"You will help me capture my point!" Harry ordered, imperiously, to a group of Death Eaters that had run into them. The men removed their masks and just sort of agreed. Now that took one hell of a lot of charisma.

Neville thought it was just bizzarre that Harry had ordered two Death Eaters to become turncoats.

* * *

"I will eat your ribs, I will eat _your very soul!_"

Lucius Malfoy nearly crapped his pants.

"Do not look at me! I did not ask you a question!" he yelled at the gawking Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Death Eaters actually looked genuinelly scared.

"Surrender now maggots, and you will not be harmed!"

And so they did.

* * *

"Welcome to the United States of-" Harry began, before he suddenly snapped into motion and decked Voldemort hard across the face with a loud smack and the whooshing sound that came from his arm moving super fast. "YOU JUST GOT DOMINATED!"

Voldemort reeled back, then prepared to cast, but then he was caught by another punch to the face.

"Scum!" Harry yelled, punching again, "Maggot!" he added, punching with his left this time. "Boat!" This made Voldemort blink in confusion, before a conjured rowboat smashed into him. "Faggot!" added Harry, crossing his arms and looking at the utterly terrified Death Eaters that had opened up into a circle to allow their master to confront their worst enemy. "You will help me capture my point," he added, gesturing towards the entire room. "This point is mine, take your lumps like a man," warned Harry, raising his leg. "Booyah!" he yelled, bringing it down on Voldemort's wand hand, clearly revelling in the nasty crunch.

* * *

"Scum! Maggot! Boat! Faggot!" Harry repeated his combo, dropping a rowboat on a bewildered Amycus Carrow. "You are not welcome in my world!"

"This sucks on ice!" yelled someone from the DA.

"Boys that scout is a Spy!" Harry yelled, "booyah!" he added, stomping on Amycus Carrow's balls.

* * *

"It's called a zoo," Harry explained, gesturing to the picture where he looked fondly as a python strangled Dudley. "Unless it's a farm," he said, gesturing towards a picture where a cow was attempting to mount Vernon.

* * *

"You are a mistake of nature!" Harry yelled, rounding on a Vampire. "You will help me cap my point."

The Vampire just sort of shrugged and decided to go with it. It was better than the offer Voldemort had made.

"You are nothing but a bunch of cowards!" Harry angrily yelled towards a bunch of Veela that had gathered. "You will help me cap my point!"

All of them looked vaguely offended, but they recognized it was the truth as they'd all fled the moment Fiendfyre proved hotter than they could handle. They decided to make up for that by joining Harry.

"You are walking VOMIT!" spoke Harry, rounding on... what looked like a golem made of, what else? Vomit. "You will help me cap my point."

The golem couldn't say no. It didn't actually have free will, you see.

"You are an englishman with a dress!" he said, finally rounding on Sirius Black.

He was wearing a frilly pink dress.

"I thought it would be funny," said Sirius, shrugging.

"You will help me cap my point!"

* * *

"Sorry to pop in unannounced," Snape spoke, as he randomly appeared in a Death Eater meeting. And then he shanked someone with a Butterfly knife. "DOMINATED! You SUCK!" he crowed, looking at the man who was even now bleeding out.

"The fuck?" one of the death Eaters yelled.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Snape asked, looking around. "No," he said, answering his own question.

Then a deluge of spells came his way. He easily dodged. "Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. "Oh, merde," he said, as a charm hit him and failed to do anything from how weak it was. Then he seemed to grow tired. "You are all incompetent cowards!"

They all began pelting him with more useless spells.

"This is a disaster!"

And they continued.

Snape calmly pulled out his mirror and phoned Harry. "Everyone back to the base, partner," he said, before putting the mirror back in his robe's pockets. "Well, off to visit your mother!" he yelled at one of the junior Death Eaters.

* * *

"We have commandeered my point. You've done me proud, boys, everyone of you deserves a door!" Harry called as he paced around Grimmauld Place number 12's kitchen table, where the DA's leadership held its meeting.

Then Snape punched him in the face. "Nothing personal, I just had to shut you up. Does it hurt when I do that?"

Not waiting for an answer, he set off several curses at Harry, all of which hit and sounded like high caliber gunfire.

"Nice shot," Harry complimented.

* * *

"You're quite out of your depth," Snape commented. "Someone help me cap my point!"

"Help, help cap my point!" Snape and Harry they looked at each other.

"You are an englishman with a dress!" Harry yelled in realization, and Snape was indeed wearing a dress. In black.

"I'll be seeing you!" Snape yelled, derangedly cheerful.

"You will help me cap my- no, wait-" and then the wet squelching sound of someone shanking someone else was heard, along with Snape's deranged laughter and Harry's pained scream.

"I never really was on your side."


	8. Shouldn't have said that

**Should not 'ave said that!**

* * *

Summary: Draco Malfoy makes fun of Harry's reaction to Dementor exposure. Harry does not take it well.

* * *

"He faints! Just from getting near a dementor! How pathetic can you even be, Potty?" called Draco, laughing all the while along with several students in robes identical to his in all but size.

The great hall was silent for a few seconds, but for the laughter of the Slytherins and very few students on other tables.

Harry looked at the table for a few seconds.

"Just ignore him, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've had a hard life, and he's a spoiled brat, he wouldn't-"

"Oh, so pathetic you need to be comforted just from the reminder, eh?" Draco called, provoking another round of laughter. "Why don't you just run off and go cry or something!?"

It was then that Harry took a deep breath and Hermione looked confused for a second before smiling in the most placating way that she could, knowing that Harry was trying the old and tired method of taking a deep breath and concentrating on something like numbers or the like.

As Draco continued spouting words, Hermione wondered just what the hell was passing through the teachers' minds and why nobody had stopped Draco already. Were it in her hands, she'd have taken a hundred points and given him a month long detention for having the sheer nerve to taunt someone about something like that. She was about to just get up and sock him when suddenly, Harry shot to his feet, his face carefully blank. Hermione was, for a moment, frozen in terror, but then Harry turned to face Draco.

"Tell me, Draco, what do you hear and see when a Dementor approaches?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow and looking deceptively calm.

"I hear their voices and see their ugliness, of course!" Draco stated, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you do?" asked Harry, seemingly interested. "That's curious. You see, Draco, when that Dementor entered into the compartment I was in, do you know what I heard and saw? I saw that thing, whatever it was, wandering into the compartment I was sharing with my friends hissing something. For all of an instant," Harry added the last part at the end rather hastily.

"Because you fainted," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Can you make fun of me for being sensitive to dementor exposure?"

"When you're supposed to be some big shot golden boy hero, hell yes," Draco crowed triumphantly.

"Hm... I would say that you don't really have grounds to insult me," Harry said.

"Pfft, I've been to Azkaban before, visiting my aunt. I've been around dementors and they don't do that to me," boasted Draco, smirking at Harry.

"But you have not experienced what I did, Draco. Tell you what, I will tell you when you can make fun of me for fainting in the presence of a dementor," explained Harry, taking a few steps towards Malfoy.

The blond scoffed. "All the time?" he asked, tauntingly.

"You can laugh at me when you face a dementor and hear your mother crying, _begging_ for the dark lord to spare your life. You can laugh at me when you hear your father begging your mother to leave him and run with you while he holds off a monster he can't defeat. You can laugh at me when you hear your mother screaming in pain as she's killed. You can laugh at me when you can hear the sound of a leather belt hitting your skin. You can laugh when you're alone in the dark. You can laugh when your cousin declares Open Season and starts his game of Draco Hunting. You can laugh at me when you can watch a horrible monster kill your entire family and turn his wand of you. Until then?" Each statement had been delivered with another step towards Malfoy's location, as he stood close to the Gryffindor table, until Harry spoke the last sentence nearly in front of the frightened blond's face. Harry finally stopped, then, tilting his head back to observe the ceiling for a few seconds. "Well, I'll put it in my cousin's words. You can go fuck yourself."

Draco himself recoiled as if he'd been struck, and the Slytherins behind him looked uncomfortable at the least.

"Me? I think I'm gonna take your advice and go cry myself to sleep or something. Dwell on my pain and misery and all that rot. You know how it goes, it's like when you throw a tantrum because your daddy didn't buy you whatever you wanted, except I'd like to say I'm a lot more justified. Sorry if I ruined anyone's appetite."

And then Harry left the great hall, to a stunned silence.

Such was the shock that had gripped everyone in the hall that everyone was only jerked awake when a sound crack signalled the devastating right hook that Hermione Granger had just landed on Draco Malfoy's face, before she turned around and shot running towards the Gryffindor dorms. Draco just rubbed his cheek where he knew a bruise would form, still in shock from trying to process what he'd just learned.


	9. Oh dear, is that?

**Oh dear, is that..?  
**

* * *

Summary: Garrick Ollivander has a startling piece of information for Fleur Delacour.

* * *

"'Air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur said, clearly proud of it. "One of my grandmuzzer's," she added, triumphantly.

Ollivander looked at her for a few seconds. "Is that what she told you? Your grandmother must not be very honest."

Fleur blinked. As did everyone else.

"I used to work with Veela hair, and the hair on your pretty little heads isn't magically potent, even on full blooded Veela. Given how magically potent it'd have to be to be used as a core for a wand, I'd say you're using one of your grandmother's pubic hairs."

Fleur was colored green and she excused herself, leaving her wand with Ollivander, who just looked somewhat amused at the whole exchange.

"Silly girl, can't believe she bought that..."


	10. Once a Freak, Always a Freak

**Once a Freak, Always a Freak  
**

* * *

Summary: Hermione Granger is forced to choose between her best friend and the boy she is developing a crush on. In one world, she stuck with what she knew was right. In another, she stuck with the easy choice. And it made all the difference.

* * *

Harry blinked.

Hermione walked away, somewhat stiffly.

And for a moment, the world was still, as Harry could do nothing but watch her back as she disappeared, walking the corridors to the Gryffindor common room. And then, in an otherwise empty corridor, Harry Potter crumbled.

"I... I promised I would never cry again... didn't I?" he asked himself, as he wiped his own tears, hugging his knees with his back against a wall.

This was his fault. It couldn't be otherwise.

He had trusted them. He should have known better. He had trusted Ron to always stick by him. He had trusted Hermione to always stick by him. He had trusted them both with his life.

He wondered, for a minute, whether they had ever been his friends. Ron knew he was famous. Probably felt indebted to him for stopping Voldemort, and then, for saving his little sister. That must be why Ron humored him for so long.

Hermione probably felt indebted to him for saving her life from the troll. And the dementor bullshit, since she would've been kissed were it not for his Patronus. That must be why Hermione humored him for so long.

Was he truly that poor a friend that they eventually grew sick and tired of him? Had the Dursleys been right all along? Was he merely tolerated by the wizarding world? He knew that it wasn't truly him who had stopped Voldemort. More likely than not, it was something his mother or father had done. He was an useless freak that nobody liked.

Remus hadn't ever contacted him, had he? Had never sought him out. Remus must have felt obligated to tolerate and help him because he was the son of his best friend. That must be why Remus humored him for so long.

Sirius had chosen to chase the traitor instead of staying to take care of Harry. That meant that Sirius didn't really care about him, either. Sirius must feel indebted, because Harry saved his life, and obligated to Harry because he was the son of Sirius' Best Friend. That must be why Sirius humored him for so long.

He was poor family, he understood that. Harry? Was he worthy of the name? Freak. Yes. Freak was his name, always had been. It was what he was. Because it was all he was ever going to be. And he understood now. There was no need to pretend any longer. Even Dumbledore had known. Dumbledore had known he was Freak from the start. That was why he had sent him to the Dursleys. So Freak could understand.

That was why he waited until the last second to help Freak against whatever threat Freak was facing. That must be why he only sent the bare minimal of assistance. Why hadn't he come himself to deal with the basilisk? Why hadn't he been able to see Quirrel coming a mile away? Why was he always absent when something important was going on? Freak understood now. It had always been because Freak had never deserved such aid, but Dumbledore was too nice not to give him at least something.

Freak was born to die, after all. He was defective from the moment of his birth. That is why his parents had prepared to die. They had felt the shame that came with bringing Freak to life. His aunt Marge always said that. His uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always said that Freak's parents were freaks like Freak, but Freak knew they were not. Not the same way. Freak was a freak even amongst freaks, and they couldn't understand because they didn't live in Freak's freaky world of freaks.

And even Freak himself had been fooled into thinking he wasn't a Freak. But today, he had seen, and finally understood. Only when he was finally left alone, wholly alone, did he finally understand.

It didn't make the pain in his chest hurt any less, though.

* * *

Freak faced the Hungarian Horntail. It was for the best. He had gotten the most dangerous and violent dragon. Everyone saw that Freak was a freak, even the little dragon figurines they'd used in the selection process, and he understood. That was why Freak walked out and when the stream of dragon fire came and enveloped him, Freak did not flinch. Freak did not look away. Freak faced his death with the sure certainty that this was all that he was good for.

* * *

Hermione Granger wasn't so much plagued by guilt as she was absolutely certain Harry's death was her fault.

She knew it without a shadow of doubt that the Boy Who Lived had met his demise by dragon because of her and her boundless stupidty. She had been developing a crush on Ron during third year, an irrational and stupid thing that just haunted her and would not go away. And she didn't know why. She didn't like Ron as a person. He was loud, obnoxious, had no table manners, lazy and a slob on top of that. But her heart was not as rational as her brain, and she hated it for that, because following her heart had led to the worst decision in her entire life.

And what for? For an imbecile that had broken off his friendship with Harry over something as stupid and trivial as he had? Hermione had cried for weeks after realizing the massive mistake she had made when she had walked away from Harry, but she had never been able to work up the courage to come crawling back to him. What would she say? what COULD she have said? "Sorry I was the worst friend and abandoned you when you were alone, let's be friends again?"

She had not been able to work up the courage to talk to him again, and this was the result. Harry Potter was dead because she had abandoned him in his time of need. He was dead because she had followed her heart instead of her brain.

Neither her crush on, nor her friendship with, Ron had survived one week after they had broken off their friendship with Harry. She understood, then, that Harry had always been a buffer, a middle ground, that stood between her and Ron, who were opposites in nearly every way. Harry had always been the one to make them reach a compromise, always been the one who stopped their verbal spats before they went too far. He had always been there for both of them. Even when either of them betrayed him.

Even when she had gone behind his back to tell McGonagall about the broom. Even when Ron had been badmouthing him about the gift of Parseltongue. He had always accepted them back and never held their betrayal over their heads.

He wasn't perfect, of course. He could be stubborn, he could be annoyingly lazy himself. But he hadn't deserved what he had gotten. He hadn't deserved to be shit on by the entire populace of the school for something that wasn't his fault. Oh, she had known Harry had not put his name in. She knew he hated his fame and would like nothing more than to be rid of it. Harry had never wanted to be the Boy Who Lived, much less the Triwizard Tournament champion he had been made. He was also pretty well off, so he hadn't needed the gold either.

But Ron had been jealous. He had been jealous about the 'glory'. About the gold. About everything. Ron was just jealous of Harry's life. It was ironic that Harry was jealous of Ron's.

But now Harry could never have the quiet family life he'd desired for. He could never have children to spoil, he could never have friends to call his children's honorary uncle and aunt.

And it was all Hermione's fault.

Nobody cared. Nobody cared about Hermione's guilt and shame. And nobody cared when Hermione Granger killed herself two months after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, knowing that nothing she ever did would atone for the disservice she'd done to herself, to the world, and most importantly, to her best friend and brother, Harry Potter.

The world moved on. Voldemort found another method for his resurrection. Without Harry to stop him, Voldemort won the civil war and drove off the muggleborns through massacre after massacre. Eventually, he moved onto the muggles. The muggleborns that escaped his purges informed the government. Voldemort attempted an all out attack on the muggle side of Britain, but as they were prepared for him, every Witch and Wizard under his command except those who defected was killed in action. The purge would not stop there, as preemptive strikes all over the world finally wiped out the majority of the magical population that existed.

From then on, the magical population was very tightly regulated by the muggles, which caused them to lash out in protest of the chokehold on their culture and magic, which meant the muggles tightened their grip on magicals, which would cause a number of rebellions across the ages until the muggles finally tired of them and wiped them out for good.

And nothing of value was lost.

For want of a friend, Harry Potter was lost. For want of Harry Potter, a war was lost. For want of a war, reason was lost. For want of reason, another war came. For want of peace, Magic was lost.

For want of a friend, magic was lost.


	11. What did you expect?

**What did you expect?  
**

* * *

Summary: In hindsight, they really should have seen this coming. It's a miracle they stood as long as they did, all things considered.

* * *

"Well? What _did_ you expect?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know! Not this!" screamed in frustration his bushy haired friend of old, as she paced in front of his desk.

Harry was, now that he sported more salt than pepper, retired from field duty. He had a meteoric rise through the ranks of the auror corps. Having killed a Dark Lord as well as wiped the floor with several of his followers, both himself and his boss Neville had seen themselves promoted fairly quickly. Neville always had a better head for long term plans, however, having learned to be cautious instead of a reckless moron like Harry, and thus they had decided that Neville would be the one to call the shots. Harry was a better field commander and Neville respected that much, and Neville was a better Director, with Harry respecting as much.

Thus, these days Harry remained in his cushy job of Director of the DMLE while Neville went on to become Minister of Magic Longbottom, having followed in after Kingsley's untimely demise (the man had choked on a pretzel and was missed greatly by the population for having been the minister to introduce casual friday). Harry had remained an Auror Captain until the third time he'd gotten the majority of his bones turned to mush by the rising upstart Dark Lords, and his own underlings had basically forced him to be kicked upstairs. They liked him too much to see him dead.

Neville agreed with them. Harry's expertise was too valuable to let it go to waste, so he also doubled as instructor for the Auror Corps on their final year. Specifically, he taught them how to deal with an opponent that is more powerful and better than you in almost every way.

Harry and Neville both had long lasting and rich marriages, resulting in the children that they adored. In fact, Harry's youngest, Lily Luna Potter, had recently started her final year at Hogwarts along her best friend Rose Weasley.

Speaking about Weasleys, the one in front of Harry had continued ranting. "And he doesn't even clean the dishes! He has magic, it's literally three flicks of his wrist!" she ranted, her steam still coming out strong.

Harry sighed. "Again, what the hell did you expect? You knew from the start that he was a slob, so why are you complaining about it now?" Harry asked, growing irritated at Hermione's continuing rant against Ron.

"But it's just... so annoying! It's not just that! It's everything! He's as romantic as a pile of dirty rags! He doesn't even remember our anniversaries!" she continued.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, he does," he said, clearly attempting to not sound as condescending as he did. "I have to hear his rants too, you know? I would like it if you stopped comparing him to me because that's what he complains the most about. According to him it's always "Harry did this" or "Neville did that", you know his self esteem is crap and he has one hell of an inferiority complex, so stop putting me and Neville into your marital spats," ranted Harry. "Frankly, I'm sick and tired of the bullshit you and Ron keep piling on me and your own children. Rose practically lives with me and Ginny, which has really cut down on our sex lives by the way, since you never stop arguing!"

"Wha-" Hermione started, before her face suddenly turned into another scowl.

"Oh, no, you're not starting to rant again. Like I said, I'm sick of this bullshit, Hermione. Why the fuck did you marry Ron? Why was the fucker dumb enough to agree to marry you? all you do is complain about each other all the damn time. I should've told you, like I wanted to, that your marriage would never work. Don't you remember, Hermione, the time you spent together at Hogwarts? There was a buffer between you two then, I was always there to stop you two from going too much at each other's throats. And guess what happened when I was no longer there? Of course, you two mistook the sexual tension between you two as love and went with that. I really should have told you two it was a bad idea back then, but by that point, I was so angry at you two for constantly making doe eyes at each other as well as leaving me hanging so you could do your 'prefect patrols', bigger bullshit I've never seen, that I just said 'Fuck it, they've made their bed, let them sleep in it'. So I let you two marry. And my biggest regret is that I let that happen because you didn't just ruin your own lives. You ruined your children's lives too. What kind of home environment is one in which the parents can never agree on anything and are always at each other's throats?"

Hermione was simply stunned as Harry unloaded his every feeling on her. She had known, on some level, that he had harbored some resentment at both her and her boyfriend when they had been dating. She had known that, on some level... "Were you jealous?" she blurted out.

"Jealous?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. I was INCREDIBLY jealous," he said, sarcasm tinging his voice. "Actually, I'm not kidding. When you were together with your boyfriend I had to endure being separated from Ginny. And here's a funny thing about my marriage: Me and Ginny? We actually agree on things. We talk to each other like mature adults and we solve our problems. We had our problems and our own rocky periods, but we sat down, talked and straightened our issues out. We don't clash with each other at every turn like you and Ron do. You're both too similar and too different at the same time, and hell knows how you can make that happen," Harry said, clearly confused about his own metaphor.

"B-But... how could you tell it wasn't going to work!? Everyone else thought..."

Harry sighed. "Until you began to date Ron in sixth year, everyone thought you and me would wind up together, Hermione. After all, you were the one who'd stuck by me all along," he said, almost nostalgic. "But I did mean it. I love you. You're the sister I never had. Just as Ron is my brother in all but blood. And it's tearing me apart to see you two like this. Because I know it's my fault. I should've told you. You could've salvaged your friendship. But my own spite and then cowardice kept me from coming out. I should've stood up when the priest asked for a reason why your union shouldn't have come to be... but I couldn't, even though I wanted to... I couldn't ruin your happiness then, however fleeting I knew it would be. Some friend I turned out to be, huh?"

Hermione sighed as she collapsed on the comfortable chair set in front of Harry's desk. "I'm really sorry about that, Harry. I've always been. I... Back during fifth year, when Ron and I were practically dancing around each other... I knew how much it hurt you to be left alone in the middle. I knew how hurt you were when you saw Ginny with someone else. And... I knew Ginny was just doing it to get you to notice her. Anyone could've told, she barely touched her boyfriends and was always looking at you. I could've solved that mess by simply doing what I knew was the simplest answer and just lock you two together in a classroom."

"It doesn't matter now, does it? I've been married to her for a long time now, and I don't see that changing soon," Harry spoke almost fondly. "Regardless... Divorce really is the best option. For both of you."

"Do you really think that?" Hermione asked, looking pointedly at the wooden desk before her. "We've been together so long... ever since first year..."

"If you really look that far back, you'd know you two really should never have gotten together. I mean, your first interaction with the guy was when he made you cry and almost, even if unintentionally, caused your death," Harry tried to joke, but it came off pretty poorly and Hermione didn't find it funny in the least. "Go talk to him. I've already had this same chat with him, anyhow," Harry said, sighing and waving his hand. "And I've got the papers ready. Whenever you two are ready, all I need is your signatures. Mine and Neville's should be enough to get this running."

"He agreed?" Hermione asked, tears clouding her eyes.

"No. He was doing the same thing you're doing now. You need to talk. You need to make this decision together. When you're ready... just give me a call."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "And... I'm sorry for always putting you in the middle, Harry... You've always been there for me. For both of us."

"It's the least I can do," said Harry with a nod. "You were there for me when I needed you. Both of you. Even if we had our disagreements at times. I love you both, and this is for the best. For you, for Ron and for Rose and Hugo."

Seeing words as unnecessary, Hermione nodded.

"Also, if you could tell Rose to stop trying to get me to cheat on my wife with her, that would be most appreciated," Harry stated blandly, absent mindedly dodging a stinging hex from a suddenly scowling Hermione. "What? I'm not kidding!"

"That's the worst part. I was trying to block the fact that my daughter has a crush on her uncle -thankfully it's not the one she's actually related to- out of my head! And now it's all I can think about, you jerkass!"

Harry merely smiled as he saw Hermione's own smile threatening to break through her scowl even as she continued to throw stinging hexes his way.


	12. The Last Ride

**The Last Ride  
**

* * *

Summary: The Master of Death has duties to attend to. Unfortunately for Harry, they're not pleasant.

* * *

He didn't know what possessed him to wear the Gaunt family Ring. Or rather, it was the Peverell family ring, taken by the Gaunts as their own. He supposed that, as the last recognized Peverell, he might as well use it in its intended purpose, as the trinket to mark the status Harry held.

He didn't know what possessed him to carry the Deathstick on his person. But he supposed he might as well do it. The wand was an apt replacement for his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand, unfortunately one of many casualties in the war against Voldemort.

He didn't know what possessed him to wear the Invisibility Cloak the way it was meant to, drapped over his shoulders. But it was a relic of times past, and it invoked in him as many good memories as it did bad. And thus, he had kept it, perhaps to pass it onto another generation of Marauders when the time came.

He didn't know what possessed him to do any of those things. But he did.

For years, it had simply been normal to him.

It had been normal to have the Thestrals fly in the skies above his home. Ginny had whined about their dreadfulness, about how much of an evil omen the Thestrals were, but Harry had been soothed by their presence. For all the bad memories they invoked, he remembered them and he remembered when five people, three girls and two boys, had marched with him in a nearly suicidal mission to save his godfather, because they respected him that much.

It had been normal to have his children be capable of seeing the animals from the moment of their birth. They had not witnessed Death, and if Harry had any say on it, they never would, but the animals had always been friendly to him and his family, and had often allowed his children to ride them, to fly in them as Harry had once ridden Buckbeak. That was, of course, until his children grew too old and dissociated themselves of the evil omens, as told by their peers.

Harry had never again taken the reins, metaphorically, of a thestral, for the thirty years he'd been married to Ginny. And that had been the normal state of things.

The Head of House Potter had always liked normality, as it had been drilled into him during his childhood by wretched human beings.

But one day, while Ginny was out training the Hollyhead Harpies' newest recruits (she could be downright nasty to the newbies), Lily was off somewhere with her new husband, Albus Severus was busy raping the laws of magic in ways that would make his aunt Hermione drool at the sheer complexity and James was off doing god knows what to the newest, rising Dark Lord that had recently taken over most of North America, Harry had walked to his yard and greeted a particularly large and nasty looking Thestral, an old thing that Harry knew well. Over time, it had grown paler than usual, as had Harry.

Harry had gone from healthy and fit to an almost emaciated, gaunt figure that scarcely looked as powerful or strong as he was.

This had been the same one he had taken to the ministry. "It's been a while, old friend," he said, though he did not know why. The words had just seemed normal. "Up for one last ride?" he asked.

The beast neighed, then snorted. It bent its knees, as if allowing Harry to hop on. Despite his graying hairs, Harry kept himself quite fit. He had never stopped wearing the Invisibility Cloak, carrying the wand or wearing the Ring, but these days, people didn't care for the items so much as the Auror that lay beneath them, the same that had squashed no less than six Dark Lords personally and nearly single handedly in his career.

"Faithful to the end, old friend," Harry said, as he did just what the nearly skeletal horse wanted and hoped on. "Let's ride into the night, to wherever the wind may take us..."

Harry didn't even notice as his form became almost transparent. He didn't notice how the elderwood stick in his hand had slowly morphed until it was a long and wicked scythe, carvings of elderberry clusters accenting its shaft. Because it was normal.

On that day, Harry Potter simply disappeared, never to be seen again.  
Many sightings of an impossibily pale, almost translucent, man had been spoken about in hushed tones. He was called an ill omen, worse than even the Grim. They said that once you saw the Pale Rider, you were marked for Death and that no one could save you. And so the legend of the Pale Rider, bringer of Death, was born.


End file.
